Blackberry Beach

by Irene Hannon

  But there was more to a successful relationship than chemistry, and until they sorted through—and resolved—all those other parts, it was important for them to keep a lid on their emotions.

  Surely, though, it would be okay to share the reaction to her truffles—and follow up on their conversation from Wednesday, ask if he’d come to a decision about Atlanta. Any caring neighbor would do as much.

  You’re rationalizing, Katherine.

  Her chin tipped up. No, she wasn’t. There was nothing wrong with paying her neighbor a quick visit. She’d stay ten minutes, max.

  Armed with that plan, she strode across the lawn, through the trees, and onto his deck.

  The driveway was empty—so Stephanie wasn’t home.

  Perfect.

  Much as she liked Zach’s aunt, having the owner of The Perfect Blend all to herself would be the icing on this cake of a day.

  She crossed to the sliding door and knocked.

  Thirty seconds later, he appeared on the other side and slid it open.

  “Hi. I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

  “Nothing important.” He returned her smile—but his was a bit weary around the edges. “Come on in.”

  “I’m not staying. I just had a piece of good news to share.”

  “That would be welcome about now.”

  She frowned, her cheer fading. “Is your dad all right?”

  “As far as I know. I’ll get the whole story soon.” He motioned to the floor behind him.

  A duffle bag was beside the couch.

  “You’re going to Atlanta.”

  “Yeah. I decided this afternoon. I leave tomorrow morning. What’s your news?”

  In light of the ordeal Zach was facing, the positive reviews on her truffles suddenly seemed inconsequential.

  “It’s no big deal. I just had a call from Jeannette at the lavender farm.” She filled him in.

  A fan of creases appeared at the corners of his eyes. “That doesn’t surprise me. Like my aunt said, they’re world-class. Are you going to supply more for her next weekend?”

  “I haven’t committed yet.”

  “You should. Stephanie told me the volunteers on Wednesday loved them too. In fact, I was thinking about asking you to donate a tray of them to the Taste of Hope Harbor event for Hope House. I heard earlier today it’s been scheduled for September 14.”

  The same day she owed Simon an answer about the movie offer.

  But whatever she decided career-wise shouldn’t affect her ability to provide truffles for the Hope House fundraising effort.

  And if she did accept the role and return to Hollywood, a truffle donation would let her exit on a sweet note.

  “I’d be happy to. Let me know how many you’ll need.”

  “I’ll check and get back to you.”

  She’d done what she’d come to do—and her ten minutes were up. She ought to leave.

  “How long will you be gone?” The question spilled out before she could stop it.

  Well, shoot. Prolonging the conversation wasn’t going to expedite her departure.

  “It all depends on my dad. If he shuts the door in my face, I’ll be back as soon as the doctors tell me he’s out of immediate danger.”

  “I’ll pray for you both.”

  “Thanks. I can’t speak for Dad, but I’ll take all the help I can get.” He hitched up one side of his mouth, but stress over the upcoming reunion with his father was taking a toll. There was a new tautness to his features, and faint remnants of the crinkle lines from his smile remained embedded after his lips flattened, suggesting he hadn’t slept much the past few nights.

  A pang of sympathy echoed in her heart.

  Hard as her career decisions were, mending a rift with someone she loved didn’t hang in the balance. The personal stakes for Zach were high, the risk substantial.

  You had to admire a guy who was willing to lay it on the line for love even after being spurned. That took a boatload of courage.

  Pressure built in her throat. “Will you let me know how it goes?”

  He cocked his head. “You mean . . . call you from Atlanta?”

  “If you get a minute.”

  “I’ll find one.” He whipped out his cell. “What’s your number?”

  She recited it. “Very few people have that.”

  He finished keying it in and tucked the phone back in his pocket. “I assumed as much. I appreciate you trusting me with it.”

  “I’ve already trusted you with all my other secrets.”

  “Yeah.” His acknowledgment came out husky, and he started to lift his hand. Swallowed. Let it drop back to his side. “Thanks for stopping by to share your news. I’m glad the truffles were a hit—but I’m not surprised.”

  He was moving to a safer subject.

  Because he was tempted to get up close and personal again—like with another kiss?

  If only.

  But he’d backed off at the beach, stopped short of making premature commitments—and a man of honor didn’t mislead a woman he cared about.

  One more appealing attribute to add to his growing list.

  That didn’t mean she couldn’t take the lead on getting up close and personal, though. What harm could there be in a quick, innocent send-off kiss between friends?

  Innocent, my foot. Get real, Katherine. A kiss is a kiss—and you know what message it will convey.

  She shut off her inner voice. Later, after Zach was gone, she’d think about the implications.

  Maybe.

  In the meantime, she was giving him a proper good-bye.

  Proper—or improper?

  She quashed that rebuke too.

  “Have a safe trip.” She rose on her tiptoes . . . pressed her lips against his . . . lingered as long as she dared . . . then scampered across the deck and dashed through the woods.

  Not until she was on her own deck did she look back.

  He hadn’t followed.

  No surprise there.

  He was probably still trying to fathom why she’d initiated a lip-lock—and what it meant.

  Join the club.

  Pulse hammering, as out of breath as if she’d run a competitive hundred-meter dash, she braced her hands on the railing, sucked in air . . . and admitted the truth.

  Zach Garrett was getting under her skin.

  Enough to become a factor in her decision about the movie role—and her career path.

  Which was scary.

  After all the work she’d put into achieving success, letting a surge of hormones influence her choices was a mistake.

  Yes, she had a host of other reasons to rethink her goals. All the ones she’d enumerated to Zach. All of them legit.

  Hormones weren’t.

  And it was too soon to call the sparks between them anything more than that. Electricity was potential, nothing more . . . and giving up her dreams to pursue a potential that might not pan out would be crazy. Her decision had to be based on lucid, sound analysis.

  Problem was, it was hard to get the left side of her brain to cooperate with thoughts of Zach short-circuiting her logic.

  Perhaps a walk on the long, empty expanse of Blackberry Beach would help whisk away the cobwebs in her head.

  She stepped off the deck and marched toward the hard-to-find path through the brambles.

  Until Zach returned, she’d do her best to banish him from her mind. Stop fixating on short-term decisions and think about long-term goals. Like, where did she want to be in five years? Ten?

  That could help her put her more immediate choices into perspective, perhaps clarify her short-term decisions.

  And until she had a rational resolution to her present situation, she would follow one important rule.

  There would be no more mind-muddying kisses with a way-too-appealing neighbor who gave new meaning to the word hot.

  Stephanie—There aren’t any national parks in our backyard, but the gardens at Shore Acres State Park are beautiful. I thought I’d d
rive up there Tuesday after The Perfect Blend closes and see what’s blooming. Should be quiet on a weekday. If you’re not busy, I’d enjoy your company. Let me know. Frank

  Stephanie stopped on the sidewalk outside of Grace Christian as she read the new message that had popped up in her email during the Sunday late service.

  All that dithering over whether to issue a second invitation to Frank, only to have him take the initiative and force her hand.

  A tingle zipped through her as the breeze lifted the end of the filmy silk scarf around her neck and sent it fluttering behind her.

  She might not need a man to complete her world—but having a beau at this stage of her life was a delightful prospect.

  Even if she hadn’t yet decided whether to listen to her heart and consider altering her retirement plans.

  “Morning, Stephanie.” Charley stopped beside her. “Beautiful day, isn’t it?”

  She angled toward the taco man Zach had introduced her to early in her stay—and whose stand they visited often. “Yes, it is. I hope it lasts.” She motioned toward the horizon, where dark clouds were gathering over the sea. “I’m wondering if those will move in.”

  “They may.” He perused them. “But cloudy days serve a purpose too. They help us appreciate the sunshine.”

  His positive take was consistent with the optimism he’d displayed during each of their encounters. “You have a point.”

  “Is Zach with you today?”

  “No. He’s out of town.”

  “Ah. Let’s hope he has a productive trip.”

  She studied him. That was an odd term to use—unless he was privy to Zach’s destination. But as far as she knew, her nephew had only shared it with her and Kat.

  Charley’s adjective choice must be a fluke.

  He picked up the conversation again. “How are you enjoying our quiet little haven?”

  “I’m loving it.”

  “You aren’t missing the lights and excitement of the big city?”

  “No. The slower pace has helped me unwind after years of nonstop travel and packed schedules. And reconnecting with Zach has been a joy.”

  “I’m sure he feels the same. Strengthening family ties is always a worthy pursuit. In the end, it’s the people in our lives that matter most.”

  “Yes.” She rubbed her thumb over the cell in her hand. “Although to be honest, during my corporate days I was so occupied with my career I lost sight of that.”

  “Easy to do. We can all get caught up in the whirlwind.” Charley watched a few leaves swirl in a vortex of air, then scatter in the breeze. “Now that you’re retired, you can start with a clean slate. That’s a wonderful blessing.”

  “I agree—and I have lots of plans.”

  “Ah yes. Plans. I remember those.” A smile played at his lips. “Years ago, as a young man determined to make a difference in the world, I had my whole future planned out in meticulous detail.”

  “Is that bad?”

  “Not always. Plans are necessary for many undertakings—like getting Hope House up and running. But plans do have a downside, as my abuela reminded me before I left Mexico.”

  “Your grandmother didn’t approve of yours?”

  “I don’t think she had an issue with my goal. More with the process I’d laid out for getting there. But she was too wise to criticize a young man who was burning with enthusiasm. What she did say stayed with me, though.”

  He paused, and Stephanie’s lips twitched. The man certainly knew how to milk a story. “Are you going to tell me?”

  “If you’d like to know. I don’t want to delay you.”

  “There’s nowhere I have to be. As I told Zach not long ago, my days of back-to-back commitments are over.”

  “Good for you. As for my abuela—she looked at me in that wise way of hers and said, ‘Plans are wonderful, mi querido—and it is wise to think ahead. But remember that this’”—he tapped the left side of his chest—“‘can sometimes alter plans. And that is not always bad. For those who have been raised well, the heart is the best compass at any crossroads.’”

  Stephanie tightened her grip on the phone. Strange how he’d mentioned listening to the heart on the heels of her debate over the merits of that very course. “Have you found that advice to be helpful?”

  His mouth curved up, his countenance reflecting peace and contentment. “Very. It’s what brought me here, to this lovely town that has been my home for many years.” He swept a hand over the surrounding buildings and the harbor. “I thought long and hard before I followed my heart—which is always smart—but in the end it didn’t betray me. It led me to my destiny.”

  “Charley!” A man holding the hand of a little girl called out to him from a few yards away. “Are you opening today?”

  He gave a thumbs-up. “I’ll be ready for business in ten minutes.” He turned back to her. “My customers are calling. Stop by later for tacos if you’re in the mood.” He touched the brim of his Ducks cap and strolled down the street.

  Stephanie watched him for a few moments, then wandered toward her car, still holding her phone as she mulled over Charley’s comments.

  They weren’t directly relevant to her situation. She wasn’t a young woman starting out with the lofty goal of making a difference in the world.

  But the part about listening to the heart while pondering the choices at a crossroads applied.

  Besides . . . wasn’t it similar to the practice she’d followed during her career, of listening to her instincts when evaluating business prospects? Of course she did her due diligence, gathered all the facts—but she’d never discounted her intuition.

  And it had rarely failed her.

  So if she’d trusted her instincts as she’d navigated the corporate jungle, why couldn’t she trust her heart to guide her on her personal journey?

  At the very least, why not let it have its say?

  She opened Frank’s email and skimmed it again.

  The message was simple and straightforward. The man wasn’t asking her to marry him, for heaven’s sake. He was asking her to visit a state park. A casual, daytime outing to look at flowers. Dates didn’t get more innocent than that.

  What could be the harm in going? It would give her another opportunity to learn more about him—and you could never have too much data when evaluating options.

  Put in that context, accepting his invitation was an entirely logical, left brain decision.

  Even if her heart was doing a happy dance as she lifted her phone and keyed in her response.

  19

  This was it.

  As the cab that had brought him from the Atlanta airport pulled away from the curb and sped off, Zach pocketed his wallet and examined the two-story, Georgian-style brick house with the white columns that had been the center of his youthful world, back when harmony and happiness reigned here.

  His childhood home hadn’t changed—but everything else had.

  And showing up out of the blue could backfire. Exacerbate the enmity between him and his dad rather than restore peace.

  His stomach knotted.

  Maybe he should have called first.

  But after hours of debating the best approach, of considering possible outcomes from every angle, his conclusion had always been the same. Calling would have been a dead end. His dad would have told him not to come—guaranteed.

  As the old saying went, it was easier to ask for pardon than for permission.

  And most people would find it difficult to ignore a family member standing on their doorstep. Plus, it was harder to close a door in someone’s face than to jab the end button on a cell phone.

  His father could give him the cold shoulder—but perhaps the elder Garrett would take into account the almost three-thousand-mile journey that had brought his son to his doorstop and at least invite him in.

  If he did . . . if he opened the door of the house . . . it was possible he’d also crack the door to his heart.

  Or not.

&nb
sp; Who knew how his dad would respond?

  And standing out here on the sidewalk wasn’t going to give him that answer.

  Zach bent, picked up his duffle and laptop case, and forced himself to walk down the path and up the two steps to the veranda that ran the length of the house.

  At the door, he set the duffle down, leaned forward . . . and hesitated, finger poised over the button.

  Just do it, Garrett.

  Taking a fortifying breath, he pressed the bell.

  From deep within the house, the familiar ding-dong chimed.

  Ten seconds ticked by.

  Twenty.

  Thirty.

  Sweat began to trickle down the middle of his back under the long-sleeved dress shirt he wore year-round in Hope Harbor. Too bad he hadn’t remembered how hot and muggy August could be in the South.

  More beads of sweat popped out on his forehead as he pushed the bell again.

  Could his dad have chosen to stay somewhere else the night before the surgery?

  But why would he do that? None of the hospitals he was likely to use were more than a short drive—

  The lock clicked.

  The knob rattled.

  The door swung open.

  From the other side of the threshold, the man he hadn’t seen since Josh’s funeral stared back at him, looking exactly as he had that day—except for his almost palpable panic.

  “Did something happen to Stephanie?”

  It took a few seconds for his father’s question to register.

  “No. She’s fine.”

  But it wasn’t difficult to understand why his dad would jump to that conclusion. Why else would his estranged son travel across the country unless he had bad news to deliver?

  Zach attempted a smile but only managed a tiny flex of his stiff lips. “I thought I’d drop in for a visit.”

  Comprehension dawned in his father’s eyes, and his jaw hardened. “Did Stephanie put you up to this?”

  As his momentary panic subsided, Richard Garrett again became the man he’d morphed into a few days after Josh’s funeral, when his elder son had told him he was ditching the corporate world to follow in his brother’s footsteps. Same grim expression, same parallel crevices carved in his forehead above his nose, same rigid shoulders that suggested he was primed for confrontation.